


Arrival

by drabbles



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arrival (2016) AU, F/F, First Contact, Humanity meets the asari for the first time, Politics, Psychological Thriller, Slow Build, but is essentially still just a love story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23786239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drabbles/pseuds/drabbles
Summary: They arrive on the 21st century. The first alien vessel to land on Earth. The world is watching them now.And it’s Shepard’s responsibility to know whether it’s friend or foe.We are not ready. But they think we are.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Liara T'Soni, Peebee/Female Ryder | Sara
Comments: 53
Kudos: 127





	1. The Tidal Wave

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU based on the sci-fi psychological thriller film: Arrival (2016) where an alien race lands on Earth, and it’s up to a linguistics expert to establish a form of communication between our race and the alien’s. It’s a stunning film, one that deals with the arrival of an alien species on a raw and deeply personal level. I recommend you watch it, and no, this fic doesn’t contain spoilers for Arrival (2016). 
> 
> \- The bottomline is: instead of the heptapods, it is the asari who land on Earth. And instead of the linguistics expert, it is Shepard who is tasked with the job of establishing communication with them. 
> 
> \- We have no fancy omnitools, no SAM implants, no advanced suits, no human biotics, and the only space travel we’ve achieved are the ones we know about now. 
> 
> \- It’s only us, as we are now, and them, the aliens. 
> 
> \- The N7 exists, but knowledge of their existence isn’t public. Only the US Military knows what they are and Shepard and Alec are one of the first N7s. Shepard is still a badass Spectre (the only one), but she’s resting from her job. Kind of retired, but then again after all the shit that happens, she isn’t at all.

“Come on, Boston. We’re heading back.” 

The dog’s tail wagged restlessly as he came rushing to Shepard’s side. He always was a good boy; military-trained, disciplined, and has saved countless officers in duty before he was given an honorary discharge after a scouting mission that cost him his left eye, sense of smell, and heightened sense of hearing. A terrorist bomb went off, taking down nearly half of a five story building with it. Him and his team managed to find it on time, but he wasn’t fast enough to escape.

Their walk to the beach always made him happier, Shepard knows. Sometimes she can’t help but wonder if Boston misses those days in service. 

Shepard gently caresses a spot from behind his ear, one that was almost torn off during the explosion. The scars were gruesome, enough to scare away other people from petting him. 

The sun was about to set in the horizon, the messy patch of Boston’s paw prints being swept away by the slowly rising shoreline. It had been a good day. Normal. Calm. 

Tomorrow would be the same. 

And Shepard found herself smiling at the thought as they made the trek back. 

* * *

_ “—in the Amazons, reports of an increase of forest fires likely caused by global warming has now led to the death of thousands of—“ _

Shepard flipped the large slab of meat in the pan, the harsh sounds of sizzling overpowering the volume of her television. Boston was laying close to her feet, his fur tickling the tips of her bare toes as he patiently waited for dinner to cook—steak again for today, not that the dog would complain anyway. He and Shepard had similar taste. 

The dinner table was already set for one person. Boston’s bowl was neatly placed in his corner next to Shepard’s seat. 

* * *

The gentle glow of her phone by the nightstand roused Shepard from her slumber. She was a light sleeper nowadays. It started ringing, the noise piercing the silence of her dark bedroom. Her eyes dart to the wall clock, 1:32 AM it read. Shepard checks the contact name before answering.

“Hackett,” she gruffly greets. 

“ _We need you to come in,”_ he says, voice quiet. 

Shepard quickly sits up. She turns the bedside lamp on. “What happened?”

_“We’re short on people,”_ he tells her guiltily. Shepard can hear shallow, nervous breaths from the other line. _“We’re going to call in Alec.”_

“Shit,” she clicks her tongue. “You’re gonna fucking piss him off.”

Silence. Another shaky exhale. _“We’re desperate.”_

Shepard stares blankly at the reflection of the moonlight against the glass panes of her balcony, the curtains swaying to the silent rhythm of the cool night time breeze. She takes in the view.

_ “Hello? Are you still there?” _

“Just tell me when,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be there.”

_ “Good. We’re going to need you on this one, Shepard.”  _

The line goes dead. 

Sleep doesn’t come until sunrise. 

* * *

The drive to base was a long one. Shepard made sure to pack her gear, uniform, and other spare clothes. She was expected to stay for a while, the reason yet to be revealed. But in her line of work, it was common for people like her to dive into service without knowing the full story. 

Boston barks in the passenger seat. 

“Know this place, Boston?” 

Shepard drove into the compound, where she was met with the familiar sight of soldiers marching about the territory with purpose; the sound of boots crunching against asphalt and the familiar scent of the headquarters nearly sends her head spinning. Admiral Hackett, the man who called her last night, was already waiting for her outside of her vehicle.

“I’ll brief you inside,” he announces the moment Shepard stepped out of the car. 

One of the soldiers promptly takes Boston’s leash and leads him away from the building. Shepard regards the admiral in front of her; Hackett looks like he hasn’t slept in days. His eyes lacked their usual focus and clarity, the raspiness of his voice betraying his bravado. The man’s usually pristine uniform was rumpled too, his badges crooked and shirt loosely tucked. 

Shepard shuts the door of her car and notices the amount of vehicles parked outside the building, or lack thereof. “Am I the first one in?”

“We’ve told you already,” he sighs. “We’re short on people.”

They go through the metal doors of the base, and a group of scrambling officers pass them by without a lick of acknowledgment. The hallways are in near chaos, men and women in uniform speeding about the narrow corridor with purposeful strides. A dreadful sense of foreboding grips at Shepard’s chest. The soldiers barely notice her and Hackett when they enter the surveillance hub. 

Hackett hands her a folder with the words ‘classified’ stamped over its cover in harsh red ink, the file mission brief. 

“High level only,” he starts. Shepard casts him a look of uncertainty. “Go ahead, open it.”

Shepard does, albeit a little hesitantly. 

A small photo of a ship adrift on Earth’s orbit. Except, Shepard had never seen one like it before. It was spherical, huge, and was covered in smooth seamless material that looked too polished to be steel. 

Shepard glances at Hackett who was expectantly looking at her, until her eyes come across the words ‘alien craft’ from the mission brief. She closes the file. 

“What am I looking at, Hackett?” She says slowly. 

It only fuels his aggravation. He rubs a furious palm across his forehead. “That’s the point, isn’t it? No one in the entire goddamn room knows what it is.”

“Word from other countries?”

“On standby. Like us,” he motions for Shepard to follow him deeper into the room. ”Everyone’s afraid to move. No one knows who to trust.”

A live feed of the craft, directly taken from one of their satellites plays on one the larger monitors of the room. It floats eerily still in the blankness of space. Shepard is frozen in place, left staring at the object. 

“It doesn’t look like anything we’ve seen here on Earth,” she tells him with utmost certainty. 

“That’s what I’ve been telling them. But Russia probably thinks it’s China, and China probably thinks it’s us,” Hackett replies. “We don’t even know if it’s a ship. It could be a satellite or worse, a bomb.”

Shepard looks at the monitors closely. She notices the distinct shape of thrusters jutting out from below the vessel and what looked like a vague outline of windows. “Is it hostile?”

“So far, it hasn’t tried anything against any of our satellites. Which leads us to the other problem.”

“Which is?”

Hackett offers her another file, this one containing a messy illustration of various graphs and charts. “It has no radiation omissions. Leaves no footprints of its fuel. Leaves no signals. Nothing.”

“What do you mean _nothing?_ ”

“It means that the only way we can really know for sure that it’s out there is by just looking at it.”

“And China still thinks it’s us?” Shepard adds lightly. 

Hackett shakes his head. “One of our lead mathematicians was able to identify it’s possible trajectory.”

Shepard looks at him in surprise. “You mean it’s moving?”

“Not right now it isn’t.” He motions for one of the officers to change the feed on the monitor. “But take a look at this. It’s current position is no coincidence.”

An image of the map of the world flashes on the screen, along with the approximate coordinates of the vessel from orbit. A red dot flashes on one area of the map, showing the estimated landing site.

“We’re not sure, but according to Dr. Anwar, it’s set to land somewhere within US boarders,” Hackett recites. “Now, that doesn’t mean the same for the other countries than it means for us—and quite frankly, the math backs it up.”

Shepard crosses her arms, the answer already finding her. “So they don’t see us as the landing site, but as the point of origin.” 

“Exactly, Commander.”

“Shit,” Shepard shuts her eyes as the gravity of the situation slowly starts to sink in. “How long do we have before this goes public?”

“Not long enough.”

* * *

A gentle knock from her door rouses Boston awake. Shepard was sprawled in her cramped bunk, legs supporting the weight of her sleepy companion. Boston’s ears perk up at the sound of the second wave of knocks.

“It’s open,” Shepard mumbles, eyes darting out of the window as she quietly drinks in the view of the sun setting over the training grounds. The door creaks open, only to reveal a young brunette sporting the same plain uniform Shepard had been wearing. It was Sara Ryder. 

“Well, what do you know. Position does offer luxury after all,” the other woman quips lightly, boots stomping into the small room. 

Boston immediately jumps down from his perch and trots over to the newcomer.

“Hey, kid,” Shepard offers her a smile. “How was Egypt?”

“Sandy. Hot. Mysterious. Beautiful.” Sara shrugs nonchalantly. “Same as always.”

“Ah. Classified information must be,” Shepard teases. “Probably comes with being a big-time researcher with Silva’s expedition.” 

Sara laughs, and it’s like hearing a long lost sister’s voice again after a lifetime of having no one to call family. 

“Your old man here yet?” Shepard asks her. 

Sara crouches down to rub at Boston’s belly. “Yep. He’s out there, chewing Hackett’s ass off as we speak.”

Shepard chuckles, sitting up from her bed. “Same old Alec. Is your brother here too?”

Sara shakes her head. “Scott’s still on tour in Afghanistan. Might still be for a while.”

Shepard nods. “Your brother’s strong. He’s one hell of a marine.”

“I know,” Sara gives her a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Shepard fixes her gaze on one of Boston’s irreparable scars, the jagged lines of poorly healed flesh that stretched from his head all the way to his jaw. 

“Do you think it’s true,” Sara starts slowly. “That ship floating in orbit—do you think it could really be what we think it is?”

She looks at Sara then. She tries to keep her voice steady. “Nothing’s for certain, kid.”

A chuckle escapes from the other woman. “That’s the Shepard way of saying yes, isn’t it?”

Shepard manages a weak smile. “We just gotta hope for the best, and prepare for the worse. Not much else to do.”

“Can I tell you something though?” Sara sits on top of the old creaky floorboards, Boston’s head snuggled against her lap.

“Sure.”

“I’m kinda excited,” she says. 

“Of course you are,” Shepard scoffs, tone laced with endearment despite herself. “Don’t let your dad hear you though. Old man’s gonna pop a vein.”

“You gotta admit, Shepard. It’s a little fun.” Sara grins cheekily up at her and it reminds Shepard of just how young the other woman actually is. “The unknown.”

“Doubt it’ll still be fun if the unknown turns out to be a weapon of mass destruction,” she tells her gruffly. 

“That’s why it’s your job to find out, Shepard.”

* * *

The ship lands on the state of Mississippi with no preamble or warning. Shepard calls it a ship because from up close, the outline of a massive door is much more visible. At the front of the sphere was a dark tinted type of glass that offered no sign of what could be from the other side, which only reaffirms the one thing that they had all been dreading. There are passengers in that vessel and judging by the size alone, there must be plenty. 

The US military have set up camp around the foreign ship’s perimeter. It’s been there for 3 days now. Sits still. Doesn’t release any sort of harmful substance, not even traces of its fuel. Helicopters regularly circle the area, look-outs and even pesky journalists, all keeping a close eye.

The world is watching them now. 

The first alien vessel to land on Earth. 

_ And it’s my damn responsibility to know whether it’s friend or foe.  _

“Any changes?” Alec Ryder, Sara’s father, asks one of the officers monitoring the object in question through the feeds. It was a little over midnight. No one in the encampment has slept a wink since it’s landing. 

“No, sir,” the young man tells him, eyes never leaving the screens. 

“Then what in the world are they waiting for?” Alec whispers to himself. 

“An airstrike is bound to happen if this keeps on. China, Russia, and Japan have already offered us aid,” Hackett says lowly. “It isn’t a permanent offer. The world is starting to question, not only our judgement, but the entire country’s.”

Alec puts up a hand and looks at the other man dead in the eye. “You know what’s at stake here. Not everything can be solved by brute force alone, Admiral. It’s on US territory, therefore we deal with it on our own terms.”

“I’m not the one giving orders,” Hackett tells him grimly. “The world isn’t going to wait for us, let alone wait for some goddamn _alien_ ship to do God knows what. The longer we wait, the more we put ourselves and the rest of the entire planet at risk. Who’s to say that that thing isn’t a ticking time bomb?”

“It’s not,” Shepard intercepts, both eyes landing on her. “If it were a bomb, I’m sure it would have detonated the minute it landed.”

“The commander’s right, Admiral,” Alec levels his tone. “And if it were a bomb, why land it in the middle of nowhere, in a cornfield? What would be the point? That looks like it wants to observe us from a distance and, judging by the lack of weapons fire, they probably think we’re safe harbor.”

“We’re in no position to be making educated guesses. If we’re going to move, we need to make the choice that would benefit the most.”

“No. No one is going to blow that ship up. We keep our distance,” Alec insists. “There’s no point poking around in the lion’s den. We wait. They were bold enough to come here, they should be bold enough to tell us why.”

An idea crosses Shepard’s mind. With a few strides, she makes it over to the monitor showing a live footage of the perimeter. “Maybe that’s it then,” she mumbles to herself. 

“Commander?”

“Maybe that’s why they’ve been idle for so long. Maybe they’re the ones waiting.”

Hackett scoffs. “For what?”

“For us.” Shepard walks to the plastic seal of their large tent, eyes now focused on the alien ship a few kilometers away from them. She crosses her arms, scrutinizing the distant object. “Think about it. We haven’t attempted to make any point of contact yet.”

“We built an entire damn military base around them. That should be enough to send the message, if there’s anyone on the other end of the line anyway.”

“But we haven’t knocked on the front door.”

“Have you lost your mind, Shepard?”

Alec has a hand planted on his chin, eyebrows scrunched together in deep thought. Shepard knows that look. It means he’s considering the idea.

“So you’re telling me that they travelled for who knows how long and how far to land on another planet, only to politely wait for us to say ‘hi’?” The more Hackett spoke, the more ludicrous the thought sounded. He shook his head, two fingers reaching out to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted.

“I mean,” Shepard shrugs. “Yeah, sure? Who says aliens can’t be polite?”

Hackett releases a long suffering sigh. 

Sara’s in the corner of the room trying and failing to suppress a tiny grin. Shepard throws the young woman a playful glare. 

Alec clears his throat. He’s been quiet for a while, or as quiet as a man like Alec Ryder can be in the middle of a time sensitive mission. “Gear up. We’re moving in,” he finally says, voice never wavering for one moment.

“What?” Hackett looks at the man as though he’s sprouted a second head.

“You wanted us to make a move? Then we take a stroll in the lion’s den.”

“Are you saying we—” Shepard’s stopped mid sentence by a pointed look from Alec. She dutifully shuts her mouth. “Yes, sir.” 

Hackett may be the admiral, but Alec was her mentor. He was more of a father figure for Shepard, and the day she’d ever disobey an order from the old man was the day she’d trade her uniform in for a dress. 

“No. Not like this. I know what you’re thinking, Alec. We need to stay on protocol, and quite frankly, the White House is already starting to reconsider China’s offer. Before we can even think of coming near that thing, we need to settle matters with our own government first—”

“That’s your job,” Alec cuts him off. “We do ours.”

“Former military officer or not, you still listen to me,” Hackett seethes through clenched teeth, “I know you never were one to follow orders, Alec, but lives aren’t the only thing on the line right now and I won’t let you jeopardize this mission just because of what your goddamn _guts_ have to say.”

“You brought me in for a reason, Steven,” he replies, voice steady. “When was the last time I’ve failed you?”

“Luck runs out, N7.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t believe in luck then.”

“Listen to me, Alec. You need to know that I won’t be there to dig you out of this the minute things head south,” Hackett grits out. “And it _will_.”

Alec leaves the room. 

* * *

“I can’t believe you guys are actually going in there,” Sara gushes, flat on her stomach on top of Shepard’s bunk. Boston was next to her, curious about the other girl’s enthusiasm. 

“I wouldn’t be too happy about it,” Shepard grunts, tying the laces of her boots with deft fingers. “We need to take every precaution before we go in.”

“Suvi’s got you covered on that one,” Sara hums. “She’s already preparing the jumpsuits.”

“Suvi?”

“Oh, one of the science officers in the camp, Dr. Suvi Anwar,” the other girl shrugs. 

“Right,” Shepard teases. “And you and this Dr. Anwar are?”

Sara rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing like that.” 

Shepard hums, deciding to leave the topic untouched, for now at least. There were other more important things to discuss and finish.“So, you joining us?”

“In that thing?” Sara scoffs. “I wish.“

“Who doesn’t need an expert archeologist on an alien ship?” Shepard playfully jabs the brunette’s shoulder as she takes a seat on the bunk. “And if things get messy, well, you got good aim too, kid. I mean, for a greeny.”

Sara chucks a pillow at Shepard’s head. “First of all, it’s technically expert exo-archeologist. I study ancient Egypt, not modern Egypt. And second of all, I’ve just passed my N4 exam. Give it time, and I’ll be just as good as you. More good-looking too.”

A loud laugh erupts from Shepard’s lips. She missed this kid; the last time they saw each other, Sara could barely unload her own gun. “Don’t worry, I’ll send pictures of the other side of that ship,” she grins. 

“With you and your old lady phone?” Sara snorts. “I’m not holding my breath.”

“Hey! I have a new phone now! And it’s an expensive as shit iPhone.”

“Whatever,” Sara smiles at her. She sits up from her bed, squeezes Shepard on the shoulder, the firm hold reminding Shepard that maybe Sara’s not that little girl who once dreamed of following her father’s footsteps anymore. Maybe that dream isn’t as faraway now. A serious look crosses her face. “Just don’t die out there, okay? And watch my dad’s back, just like you always do.”

“I promise, kiddo. I promise.” She pats Sara’s knee before standing up. “It’s just another mission.”

* * *

Traces of the rising sun peaked over the edges of the large alien vessel as it menacingly loomed over Shepard and her small crew. The ship stands tall, proud, dark, sneering over them with it’s inky blackness and glossy sheen. Even from this distance, Shepard could barely see through its glass. 

“Shit,” one of the soldiers from behind her mumbles. “That thing must at least be fifty feet tall.”

Alec Ryder was walking ahead of the team, sporting the same airtight jumpsuit that should protect them from any other harmful foreign substances from the ship. Shepard tightens her grip on her assault rifle, the cool solid object over her gloved fingers allowed her a semblance of leverage, like an anchor she can hold on to amidst a storm surge. It’s saved her life multiple times now, and she was counting on it to save her one more time. The familiar rush of uncertainty gnawed at Shepard’s chest, heightening every single one of her senses, but as she tried to look around their perimeter, the constricting jumpsuit wrapped around her body only caused her to panic in bitter silence instead.

Shepard has survived countless battles. She is a soldier who has raced against time to save millions of innocent lives, an agent who has deceived and taken multiple identities in order to infiltrate enemy bases, a pioneer who has lived through enough disasters to satisfy a dozen lifetimes, and a lonely soul who has escaped enough death to fill a graveyard. 

But, as she feels her boots crunch against the crooked stem of crops in this seemingly never ending cornfield, her resolve slowly starts to waver. She can see the fog of her mask thicken even more as she takes in deeper and shallower breathes—it feels like a ticking time bomb, one that she’s staring dead in the eye. 

They’re closer now, and Alec motions for them to stop. 

A low tremor vibrates the entire field. 

The ship, it’s a ship after all, starts to move. A ramp of some sort, with white light coming from the other side of it, starts to sink into the floor. A clear mist seeps from outside of it, the more it opens, the more Shepard needs to cover her eyes because of the blinding brightness that escapes.

“Hold your fire!” Alec barks, voice muffled over their jumpsuits. The squad dutifully obeys him, but it’s difficult to obey an order when you feel like death is staring you in the eye. 

Shepard clenches her jaw, the familiar curve of her gun’s trigger now locked against her index finger. All it takes is one move, and she knows she’s bound to lose a bullet or five into that ship.

The ramp is completely down now. 

There is nothing inside but pure ethereal whiteness. Nothing but a blank page in a shell of a large vessel. Alec holds a hand up. 

“Steady now,” he tells them. And Shepard dreads the words yet to be said, because she’s seen the look on his face too many times now to know what happens next. “We move in.”

They make it inside the ship. 

Shepard’s encompassed in a blur of white light, until her eyes manage to gradually adjust itself. 

And she’s met with an empty ship, but certainly not a lifeless one.

There were etchings on the corners of the walls, illuminated glyphs, she can tell, of symbols that strike a sense of familiarity in her. She lowers her gun by a fraction. She looks over at Alec, desperately trying to wrack her mind for an answer. 

“My god,” Alec says, voice barely audible. “Hieroglyphs.”

“Are you sure?” Is all Shepard finds herself saying.

“My daughter’s an archeologist,” he says. “And this is all she ever talks about. I couldn’t forget what it looks like even if I tried.” 

There was a large glass panel north of the empty room, one that held nothing but pure light. The rest of the crew are moving at a snail’s pace, trying to make sense of the glyphs and the emptiness of the room.

Shepard can feel herself walking closer to the glass. Alec follows closely behind.

“What the hell is on the other side,” Shepard whispers, only a few feet away from the massive glass panels. 

“I doubt we’re ready to find out,” Alec tells her. And for the first time since he’s arrived, Shepard manages to catch the subtle traces of fear lingering in his voice. 

Then, movement from the other side. A willowy dark figure growing closer, closer, clearer. Shepard unconsciously steps back in a panic, levels her gun over the nearing silhouette behind the glass, and prepares herself for the recoil of a dozen bullets before Alec’s firm hold on her arm stops her. 

“Hold your fire, Commander,” he orders. “Easy. Easy.”

Shepard doesn’t lower her gun, eyes still planted on the dark humanoid silhouette slowly pacing near their end of the glass. A bead of sweat trickles down her furrowed brow, the salt making her eyes burn, but she doesn’t blink, not even for one second. 

Then, the figure is much clearer now. It’s a silhouette of a woman. It’s getting closer. Until it’s staring Shepard right in the face, with a pair of curious blue eyes and an undeniable human-like face. And if Shepard even dares herself to think about it, there was an underlying current of awe and maybe even something akin to wonder veiled underneath the expression. 

Shepard is frozen in place. The thing, the _alien_ , just stares back as if it knows the gravity, the magnificence of the moment. Shepard slowly, despite the plea of every bone in her body, lowers her gun.

“Alec,” she barely manages to find her voice. “What am I looking at?”

Alec is just as mesmerized as she is, eyes roaming the figure of the creature regarding them through the transparent barrier. He opens his mouth to speak, “I don’t think anyone in the entire planet has an answer to that, Shepard.”


	2. Red Sparrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard is tasked with a mission that will soon change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments from last chapter surprised me, honestly! Didn’t think anyone would be interested in an AU like this but I’m glad I’m not the only one who is. Thanks for letting me know! :)

** 72 HOURS AGO  
  
**

_“—police have already set up a blockade here around the area. As you can see, we got just about as close as we can but unfortunately Mississippi right now, is on complete lockdown.”_

_“The object apparently touched down just twenty minutes ago just north of Route 84. We’re waiting to hear if this is perhaps an experimental vessel or... hold on, it—I’m learning that more objects like this have landed in as many as eight other locations around the world.“_

_“This is worldwide. It is happening right now.”_

* * *

Shepard narrowly escaped a careening military officer in the hallway on her way to the surveillance hub. The entire military base was in complete disarray. The room Shepard had entered was filled with officers trying to establish communication with representatives from other countries. Admiral Hackett was near the larger monitors barking orders to someone over the phone. 

“Hackett!” She called for him, swiveling past another group of technicians. At the mention of his name, Hackett immediately drops the phone. “Talk to me. What’s happening?”

“There are eight more just like it landing across the planet,” he rushes out. “Goddammit, Shepard. None of our scans managed to detect it after we lost visual.”

“How the hell did it get here so fast?” Shepard demanded, eyes focused on the screen showing footage of the vessel descending to the ground. 

They had dutifully monitored the vessel’s position in orbit, and have even managed to coordinate with various space stations on how to approach the object from space should the need arise. However, what they did not expect, was for the object to deconstruct itself, as though it was multiplying, before it vanished seemingly out of thin air. The next time it decided to make its presence known, it was already scattered around various parts of the globe.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Hackett mumbled. “We think it’s some sort of stealth drive, I—we can’t know for sure—no one knows. This kind of technology is unheard of.”

Shepard releases a slow exhale through her nose. She tunes out the noise of the surveillance hub before she offers the admiral a determined, steely gaze. “Alright. It’s here now and we deal with it,” she tells him solemnly. “What are your orders?”

“The CIA are on their way. We’ll be moving in in less than 24-hours,” Hackett drops the phone on one of the cluttered desks and motions for Shepard to follow him out of the room. “We’re expected to coordinate with other countries and then set up camp around the object’s perimeter.” 

“What then?” Shepard dutifully follows him in stride. 

“And then,” the admiral falters, “we wait for whatever it is we’re dealing with to arrive.”

* * *

_“For now, we’re simply asking for cooperation while authorities assess the object.”_

_“So you’re saying it’s not ours? Do you even know if it’s from Earth?”_

_“We’re still collecting information. We’re coordinating with other countries. We are not the only ones to have one of these in our backyard.”_

* * *

**  
PRESENT TIME **

Shepard and her small team had just safely made it out of the alien ship and back into the encampment. Another team of officers, wearing similar hazmat suits, were waiting for them in the sanitation bay. They were required to go through a sanitation airlock before they could proceed back into the base; it was a necessary precaution to ensure that no foreign microorganisms from the alien vessel, should there be any, would infect them. 

“Ground-team has arrived. Don’t open those masks! Prep sanitation chamber!”

“Copy that, sir! Prepping sanitation chamber!”

Shepard quietly stumbles off the back of the pickup truck, and into the arms of the officers in hazmat suits. Two men steady her to her feet and dutifully assist her to the sanitation camp waiting only a few feet away. 

Alec motions for the men to open the metal door of the airlock before he grips one of Shepard’s shoulders. “Steady, kid,” he tells her. 

Shepard wordlessly enters the airlock, as she desperately tries to ignore the suffocating tightness of her suit. The airlock chamber proceeds to shower her with a disinfectant, its scent strong enough to penetrate through the numerous layers of her hazmat. After she steps out of the chamber, another pair of hands assist her with unzipping the heavy material of the jumpsuit.

The minute Shepard’s head made contact with open air, she shoved a few of the officers out of her way before proceeding to purge herself of a well-digested breakfast on one of the nearby trash bins.

“Jesus, Shepard,” Alec muttered by the foot of the tent as he unbuckled his own hazmat. “Tell them to prep medbay. Somebody escort the commander there.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Shepard continued to empty her stomach on the bin. She accepted a hand towel from one of the soldiers before waving them off. “Fine. I’m fine. I—“ she cuts herself off as another batch of bile rises from her throat and splashes on to the bin. The smell of her own vomit mixing with the heady scent of the sanitation chamber only fueled the bubbling nausea in her stomach. Her damp red hair was clinging to her cold and clammy skin due to the excessive amount of sweat from her time in the hazmat suit.

“Inform Dr. Chakwas asap,” Alec ordered one of the officers, as he stepped out of his own suit. Shepard was still doubled over by the trash bin, with both hands on her knees to support her own weight. Alec pats her on the back before slowly positioning himself on one of the benches. “Shepard. Hey. Are you going to be alright?”

“I will,” she mutters shakily. Shepard quietly wipes her mouth with the dry towel before finally removing the suit. The officers nearby immediately pulls the item away from her. “I will be,” she repeats, louder. “Just—I need a minute.”

Alec eyes her grimly, his greying hair disheveled and damp as much as Shepard’s. “You’re sure?” He says gently this time. “We’ll have to go back.”

“Easy for you to say, old man,” Shepard manages a breathless chuckle before she wipes her lip again. She leans against the lockers, banging the back of her head against the solid metal. She releases another shakey exhale. “You’re not the one the damn _alien_ was staring at the entire time we were in there.”

* * *

Shepard dreams of an ocean that night. 

It was a limitless expanse of rich blue liquid coating the distant horizon for miles and miles away, to the edges of the Earth. She dreams of the color lapis lazuli, the shade of sapphire gems, and glistening cerulean shorelines. There is something unmistakably profound here, Shepard thinks, but the thought ceases the minute a mountainous tidal wave comes into view. It devours everything in its wake, leaving nary a trace of life or beauty—nothing but unprecedented destruction.

Then, the wretched sound of inhumane screams pierce through her ears. The echoes of one’s dying breath swallowing her very being, burying her in a sheet of empty blackness until there is nothing but silence in the profound darkness of her mind.

Shepard wakes up in cold sweat.

She’s met with the blank white ceiling of her room. 

The face of the creature behind the glass barrier flashes in her mind. She quickly shakes the thought away. 

Shepard looks around the darkness of her tiny bedroom, hands coming up to reach a pistol under a pillow. Her eyes dart over Boston’s still sleeping figure at the foot of the door. She calms herself. The concrete feeling of the weapon in her palms gradually brings her back to reality. 

Shepard slowly sits up. She runs a free hand through damp red hair and tucks a fistful of it behind her ear. She presses her face against the cool metal of the pistol, slowly willing her heart to beat at a more normal pace. 

_Deep breaths, Shepard._

Her legs take her to the window of her cabin, the sound of her own footsteps padding against the floor makes Boston stir in his sleep. Shepard leans against the window frame, and hesitantly looks outside. 

The ship is still in the field, its position unchanged, as though the events that had transpired that morning were nothing but mere fiction. Maybe if she believes it hard enough, it would be. But the way the vessel stands proud, bathed under moonlight, tells the soldier otherwise. 

_It’s there,_ Shepard thinks. _Inside that ship. Waiting_. 

* * *

“You’re up early, kid.” 

Sara acknowledges her with a grunt underneath a coffee mug. 

Shepard pours herself a freshly pressed brew from the coffee machine. Its strong scent dutifully chases away the remaining vestiges of the nightmarish visions from her mind. She focuses on the heat of her mug before she allows herself a moment to take in the room occupied by the lone archeologist. There were strewn out papers littering the small pantry, and a small light bulb overhead producing a fair amount of light. 

Sara Ryder was in the middle of it all, with a small laptop showing various images of the inside of the vessel in front of her.

Shepard looks out the window. The ship isn’t visible from this side of their encampment. It offers her a mild comfort. She takes a deep steadying breath; the way the cool morning air mingles with the smell of her coffee puts her mind at ease.

It was barely dawn, the sky still painted in the faintest shade of blue. She tries not to think about what the color reminded her.

“So,” Sara starts, her voice snapping Shepard out of her reverie. “You threw up.”

Shepard lightly scoffs. “Where the hell did you hear that from?”

“Dad,” she replies easily. “Told me your legs were practically jelly the second you guys made it back.”

“It was because of the hazmat. Couldn’t breath right in that damned thing.”

“Well, I think it’s better than the alternative,” Sara mildly teases. 

Shepard merely grunts in response.

“Read the mission briefs,” the brunette says, as she scrolls through the images from her laptop.

“And?” Shepard slides into the seat next to her.

“It’s unreal,” Sara mumbles.

Shepard maintains her silence, eyes planted on her small reflection on the glass window. She remembers the barrier.

“And I want answers,” Sara tells her, dropping her hands on the table. The action immediately sobers Shepard. “Do you think they’ll let me in on the ship with you?”

“We’re unsure how to proceed yet. We’re starting by trying to decipher what those glyphs could mean.”

“Hieroglyphics,” Sara corrects her, propping her leg up the table. “Proof that they’re—well, that they’re capable of communication.”

“Nonverbal communication, yes,” Shepard mumbles. 

“The real question is why was it scrawled all over the room?” Sara says contemplatively. “Didn’t look like they served any functional purpose. At least, that’s what I could gather from the images yesterday, anyway.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Ryder,” Shepard tells her, sipping from her mug.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing but an empty room, a glass barrier, and some symbols of what is probably their known alphabet,” she says slowly. She gently rests the mug back on top of the table. “I’d say the message is loud and clear.”

* * *

“Shepard, this is Agent Addison. She’s here on behalf of the CIA,” Hackett introduces her to a short woman in her mid-forties. Her dark blue vest was terribly disheveled, along with her cropped red hair that was a few shades lighter than Shepard’s own. “Addison, this is Commander Jane Shepard. N7 Operative and US Military Spectre, so far the only one to have been awarded such prestige,” the admiral continues, solemn pride evidently leaking out of his tone. 

The agent, Addison, didn’t seem impressed. “And here I thought you and your people were nothing but myths the government would tell us, to help us sleep more soundly at night,” she spoke with a distinguishable British accent. She looks at Shepard with clear disdain, but offers her a firm handshake nonetheless. 

Shepard makes sure to grip the other woman’s hand a little harder than necessary. “Hopefully it worked,” she quipped. It makes Addison’s grip falter, one that Shepard positively revels in.

“On the contrary, it’s done more damage than good,” she scoffs. “Secrecy does after all breed paranoia. And for a bloody good reason.”

Hackett pointedly clears his throat. Shepard looks up, and meets his silent reprimanding gaze. She merely shrugs it off. 

“Ma’am, I hope you can understand the need for secrecy,” Hackett tells her in a level tone. His shoulders are squared, with his posture ramrod straight. Shepard can tell it’s the military drill sergeant leaking out of him. Either that, or he was trying not to snap at the other woman as much as Shepard was. “Some operations go smoothly with lesser parties involved. I’m sure this is something you know very well.”

“Don’t worry,” Addison replies nonchalantly, as her eyes skim past through one of the file mission briefs. “I’ve signed all the dotted lines, Admiral, and quite frankly I can’t say I’m comfortable with just how far this government is willing to go just to keep a handful of military soldiers an ongoing secret.”

“This handful of military soldiers, Agent Addison,” Alec interrupts as he enters the room, “could just be what this operation needs to avoid an all-out planetary war with another species.”

“Alec Ryder,” Addison looks up in mild shock as she closes the file folder. The woman quickly recovers before she crosses her arms over her chest. “I should have known. Retired CIA agent, my ass,” she mutters lowly with a disapproving shake of her head. “This is complete and utter bullshit, Hackett—and you know it. Who else from my department is a _godforsaken_ N7 Operative!?” No one in the room dared to answer her. Addison clicked her tongue. “Of course. That was fucking rhetorical, anyway.” 

“To the matter at hand then, Agent Addison,” Shepard asserts. She can play diplomat with CIA agents all day long if it meant annoying the older woman to the brink of retirement. Addison’s anger was understandable, sure, but to present it during these dire circumstances was nothing else but a show of unprofessionalism. The amount of work to be done, or lack thereof, is their main priority. 

“Yes well, I’m sure you’ve all heard of the news, then,” Addison waves at the general direction of the monitors broadcasting a live news report. “Not every nation who has these alien ships in their backyard has the same... open-policy as we do.” 

Shepard crosses her arms. She and Alec share a silent glance of understanding.

“A lot of them wish to follow countries with more fire power,” she continued. “General Shang is, well to put things mildly, spooked. They have war submarines and naval ships surrounding one of the alien vessels currently located in the South China Sea, near the coastal waters of the Philippines. The Philippine government has agreed to provide the Chinese Military their undivided support along with limitless access to these waters,” Addison pauses to lean her weight against one of the tables. “Russia is inclined to follow in China’s footsteps. Japan hasn’t moved in yet but at this rate, the rest of the world is bound to follow in favor—of course—of finding more allies within each other.”

“Without a doubt,” Hackett mutters under his breath. 

Addison offers him a curt nod. “Now, if you have any suggestions on how we can prevent our neighbors from starting an all-out war with an extraterrestrial nuisance that obviously holds the higher advantage, then let’s hear it,” she makes it a point to look the three of them in the eye before continuing lowly, “because preventing a planetary war from happening is number one priority at all costs. My job is to keep the neighborhood calm. Yours is to give me a good reason _why_ they should be.”

“We want to establish some form of communication with them,” Alec says before the silence can linger. 

Addison squints at the older man. “On what grounds?”

“We have evidence,” Shepard adds. “The glyphs on their vessel is proof that they are capable of nonverbal speech.”

“We are aware of these—these _gibberish_ symbols but no one in the planet has managed to decipher its meaning,” Addison sighs. “For all we know, it could just be a part of their ship’s design or worse, a way to confuse us into thinking that it means more than it actually does.”

“Right now all we need is time, Addison,” Alec insists. “It’s only been a day. We need to give these guys the benefit of the doubt.” 

“It’s plain to see that they have more advanced technology than we do. They’re ahead by, practically centuries, and yet they haven’t shown any sign of hostility against us,” Shepard mutters. “I’ve seen this kind of stuff too many times before. If they wanted a war, they should have made the first move by now, I guarantee it.”

“You have two weeks,” Addison says finally. “If you don’t get me anything by then, God have mercy on us all.” 

* * *

“You guarantee it, huh,” Hackett says at the end of the meeting.

“You’re not the one who walks inside the ship, Hackett,” Shepard replies. She swallows the lump in her throat before continuing, “there’s something there. I just know it—if you could only see the way it...” The thought drifts away from her; she can’t quite find the right words to say. The memory of blue eyes plagues her mind once more; she remembers the look of awe on the creature’s human-like face, the way it’s eyes lit up when it found them. 

_There’s something there,_ Shepard thinks again. _There has to be._

She looks up to meet the admiral’s gaze, and she’s surprised to find the wary look in his eyes. 

“Shepard,” he slowly starts. “You’ve done this country proud more times than I can count. We trust you. And right now, we need you more than ever to make the soundest decision possible. I trust you to,” Hackett‘s words echo inside Shepard’s mind long after he leaves the meeting room. 

* * *

They wait another day before entering the vessel a second time.

The ship’s ramp opens in an agonizing pace the moment they near, the same clear mist escaping from its edges. The team slows, and Alec looks back to meet Shepard’s gaze, his face illuminated by the lights of his helmet. 

“Are you alright?” He asks her, voice filtered through the intercom. They were going to enter the ship unarmed this time, save for a few cameras and other recording equipment. 

Shepard was tasked with carrying the cage of a little red sparrow, one that would help determine the oxygen levels of the inside of the vessel. If the sparrow starts reacting violently in its cage, the mission would immediately be aborted. 

“Yeah,” she mumbles, tightening her grip on the handles. The sparrow stirs at the movement, but doesn’t exhibit any reaction out of the ordinary. “We’re good,” she says in a much clearer tone. The rest of the team acknowledges her. They continue to climb aboard the ramp, one that has already finished its descent to the ground. 

When they enter, nothing has changed. 

The room is still empty, save for the walls that were scrawled with the undecipherable glyphs. The transparent barrier still holds the same empty white light that prevents them from seeing the other side. She can hear her own breath, the sound of it emphasized through her airtight helmet with every shaky exhale. She focuses her attention towards the massive glass panes of the vessel and thinks about where the alien from the other side could be— _if_ it would still be the same one they had encountered the first time. 

“Come on,” Alec places a firm hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get these set up before it arrives.” 

With trembling fingers, Shepard places the sparrow and its cage on the floor. 

“Everyone hold,” one of the officers speaks up, effectively drawing the entire team’s attention. “There’s movement from the other side,” he says as he tries to adjust the instrument assigned to him, one that helps detect heat signatures behind the transparent wall.

“Continue setting up the cameras and recorders,” Alec orders, and the team immediately springs into action. “Stay in position at all costs. No one is to approach the glass barrier.” 

“Copy that, sir.”

The officer was correct; the willowy silhouette from the other side of the glass gradually nears them. Shepard instinctively moves farther away from the barrier.

“Pick up the pace, ladies and gentlemen, these crates aren’t going to move themselves,” Alec mutters. “Let’s not keep our guest waiting.”

Shepard stares. She’s met with the same blue eyes that looked back at her from the first time they entered the ship. The alien’s attention was drawn towards the little red sparrow and its cage in the corner of the room. The alien has its head ever so slightly tilted to the side, with the marks above its eyes furrowed in deep thought. Shepard thinks with daunting clarity how human it seems. Her eyes are gradually drawn to the distinct female figure of the creature, how its current attire hugged the curve of its frame in every manner of feminine. 

“Sir, it’s already waiting for us,” one of the officers says into the intercom. “Equipment prepped. We’re ready to begin on your command.”

“ _She_ ,” Shepard finally whispers. A few of the officers, including Alec, look towards her. “She, not it,” she mumbles, as she keeps her eyes locked on the figure behind the glass. She, the alien, was still staring intently at the little sparrow. 

“Alright, Commander,” Alec’s steady voice pierces through the intercom. “Then we better make sure to give her a better welcome than before. You can start now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The news report’s dialogue are taken directly from the film Arrival (2016). If you wanna get a better idea of how the sanitation process works and how Shep looks like in the hazmat suit, feel free to check it out in the film. And don’t worry, the movie won’t be spoiling anything in this fanfic and vice versa. It retains some plot elements, mainly the political aspect, but not all. 
> 
> Also, we’re going to encounter a lot of humans from Mass Effect in this AU. Addison from ME:Andromeda is just the beginning. (To those who love Addison, you have my sincere apologies skjdhd I just wanted to make her as in-character as possible.)


	3. Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not updating in almost two months! I got caught up in finishing some of my backlog that had stacked up because of the quarantine. Also, I had to redo my outline for the story, flesh out some more details, fix some plot points, things like that—especially since I’m planning on making this fic really long!
> 
> (When I did decide to update this fic, AO3 wasn’t working properly for some reason? I don’t know if I’m the only one having that trouble or if it has something to do with my country since I live outside the US and stuff. It seems it’s okay now though.)
> 
> Another reason why I posted this so late is because I worked on a sort crack group chat fic that’s purely self-indulgent at this point (if you wanna read it, please go ahead and I hope it gives you a chuckle or two! The title is so long because I wrote it at 3 am, barely lucid but still kicking.) 
> 
> ALSO I’m so happy that some of the comments sent me suggestions on which character should appear in this universe, because it’s given me even more ideas. So thanks for that, guys! <3
> 
> A lot of events and conversations in this chapter are from Arrival (2016) because it is an AU after all, but with its own twist. Just these early bits are taken from Arrival (2016), really—just some necessary build up stuff. But the rest of the story, along with Liara and Shepard’s romance arc, will be plotting its own course.

The transparent wall still holds the same blinding white light. It is impossible to see anything but the solid presence of the lone being on the other side of it. It is impossible to know whether or not she is the only one there. Shepard thinks the wall is thin; in her mind, she’s already calculating the correct amount of pressure necessary to break the glass. But the wall, Shepard knows, is there not merely for the sake of both their and her safety. The wall represents an idea, that they and she are separate. They are different. Shepard is human. Anything else behind this wall is not.

She, their visitor, is not hesitant to approach the wall. It’s the first thing Shepard notices. The alien seems unafraid, whereas Shepard and her team would stand farthest away from the wall, ready and prepared to bolt at any opportunity should they decide to abandon the mission. 

Being a Spectre has had its obvious advantage, Shepard knows. It means being granted greater, in fact questionable, leeway to reach an objective—and Shepard knows she has used every advantage she was given, has exhausted every means possible to carry out her duties and has never failed once. The Spectre can feel it, with every bone and hardened muscle in her body, that this would not be the end of her clean record. Because right now, as she stands toe-to-toe with a being so strange and alien, Shepard knows that it is not only her country’s safety that is on the line, but the fate of humanity itself.

“You can start now,” Alec told her. The man was standing a few feet behind, supervising their small team with his meticulous eye.

The commander stepped forward, closer towards the wall, as she blocked out the high-pitched chirping of the red sparrow in the corner of the room. The alien’s eyes immediately snapped up to Shepard’s, and in came the overwhelming urge to tremble away from her pointed gaze. Two pools of clear blue eyes, as frightening as they are breathtaking. 

Then, the alien’s wrist glowed a shade of orange and from that light, out came another series of indecipherable glyphs. Shepard freezes.

“What is that?” Alec asks.

“I think there are more symbols coming out of it.” Shepard starts silently praying that the new tool is not a weapon.

“Look at that,” Alec replies, awestruck by the technology beholding them. “It’s a projection—a hologram, almost. But where’s it coming from?”

“She could be trying to tell us something,” Shepard mutters, the light tremor of her own voice unsettling her.

“Lieutenant Vega,” Alec calls for the officer posted behind the video recorder. “Make sure you’re getting all of this. Focus on the gadget on... her wrist.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“I think that looks like a new symbol. I’m not sure.” Shepard announces. It was difficult to identify because of how far she stood from the wall. The commander has ingrained the previous glyphs to memory, but the ones the alien where showing them right now seemed more complicated. There was no telling what it was. They have only barely begun translating the symbols they have now, and knowing that the alien’s race may have more is a daunting prospect.

“Get Ryder on the line,” Alec orders.

Shepard hears shuffling on the other end of the intercom before the woman in question finally manages to respond.

“I’m here,” Sara says eagerly.

“Confirm, is this a new symbol?”

The other end is silent for a few seconds.

“Sara?”

“Doctor Anwar confirms, sir.”

“Add it to the database,” Shepard says idly. “But isolate it from the ones we’ve seen so far. We don’t know if the two are entirely connected.”

“Already done, Commander,” Sara replies. “Though, the arches present in these new symbols almost makes it look like it’s some kind of art rather than an alphabet. Do you see that?” Shepard knows the young archaeologist was referring to the unmistakably elegant looking curls of each of the symbols, one that closely resembled the tails of a G clef. “I’m only hypothesizing, but it could suggest that these guys are into some serious calligraphy, maybe?”

“Maybe. Or maybe be they construct their sentences in a non-linear approach,” Shepard mumbles absentmindedly, eyes drawn to the alien’s holographic tool.

“Shit, Shepard. Did not think of that one.”

"Let's hope that isn't the case," Alec grumbles.

"Yeah, that will definitely make our jobs ten times harder."

“There’s something familiar about it, though. Something I can’t seem to place,” Shepard continues. “Like I’ve seen it before.”

“Unless this isn’t first contact, then I highly doubt that,” Sara mutters.

“Are you sure we don’t have anything like it in our records?”

“Positive.”

Shepard stares at the alien language. An eerily familiar memory scratches at the back of her mind. “Check again,” she mumbles.

“Alright, but don’t know what good it’ll do.”

Then, the alien, in an almost human-like gesture, taps the surface of the wall with a finger to get their attention. It works.

**_Clink-clink-clink_ **

“Fucking hell,” an officer behind Shepard mutters with a voice barely audible. “—makes me feel naked without a gun,” she adds lowly.

“Keep it tight back there,” Alec admonishes, the tremble in his voice betraying his bravado.

Shepard, astounded by the motion, takes a step back. The alien points at the static orange-lit symbols showing from her wrist.

“What are you up to,” Shepard whispers, more to herself than to the other party. “Do you think she’s waiting for a response?” She says much louder for the room to hear.

The alien continues to tap on the glass.

From behind Shepard, she can feel her team mildly panicking, with the way their eyes search the room for each other's for a silent plea of reassurance. She puts both hands up in surrender. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she tells them. “She’s not doing anything. She’s just,” for a split second, green eyes meet blue and Shepard continues, “waiting.” 

“Too early to tell,” Alec says. “But communication _is_ a two-way street.”

“Not an easy one at that,” Shepard mumbles, calmer now that the alien has chosen to stand still once more. It seems Shepard's action has placated her.

“Who knows how long this is going to take,” Alec sighs. “Time is a luxury we definitely cannot afford. It's bad enough we have _Addison_ hovering over every decision we make.”

“We should regroup for now, Alec. Need to rethink our strategy.”

“We should be the ones taking the lead here, Shepard,” Alec tells her somberly. “Not them,” he finishes, gesturing at the barrier.

“I think it’s too late for that,” Shepard replies. “They came here first. That means they have a plan for us.”

There is an end goal for all of this, Shepard doesn’t say. And life will never be the same.

Shepard jerks her head towards the exit, and Alec eventually concedes. Alec orders the team to pack the gear, and he is followed unquestioningly. Green are drawn to blue once more; Shepard is met with an eerily familiar look of confusion painted across the alien’s face, as though she is trying to reach out to Shepard in ways beyond what is presently possible or allowed.

_Where are you going?_

The alien is looking at Shepard, only Shepard it seems. As the only Spectre, she is always given more leeway. What is possible or allowed does not always apply to her. The commander hopes her own eyes manages to send the unspoken message across.

_I’ll come back._

* * *

Shepard doesn’t sleep that night.

Instead, she sits under the light of a trillion stars with only a small pile of blankets and Boston’s comforting presence to keep her warm in the spacious trunk of her pickup truck. It’s pleasant company, Shepard thinks, but she knows that they are far from alone. Because off in the distance, the ominous silhouette of the vessel sits as still as the dead of night, towering over their diminutive encampment, one that looked almost pathetic in comparison.

Shepard feels as though she’s staring straight into a black hole, strangely reminding her of countless sleepless nights with only the blankness of her mind to keep her from falling into the brink of insanity. Shepard knows the overpowering feeling of emptiness all too well, either a useful ally or a formidable foe in one's own mind. 

However, beyond the intimidating veil of the otherworldly vessel, lies solace in a strange shade of blue. There is something compelling about the creature, Shepard reluctantly admits. Where she expected to find horror in every describable manner, she instead finds familiarity and the faintest trace of comfort. There is something deeply profound about standing face to face with alien life that looked so similar to one’s own—something almost holistic about it, to know that there are creatures beyond her own mundane existence that may hold similar sentiments.

Silence is interrupted by soft footsteps padding against the grass. Shepard listens. The footsteps are too light to be a soldier’s—man or woman—but much too careful to be a civilian’s. Boston’s ears finally perk up now that it is more audible but had he been younger, he would have picked up on it far earlier than Shepard. They grow louder, closer, but she doesn’t need to look around to know who it’s from.

“Boo!”

“Sara.”

“ _God,_ you didn’t even flinch!”

Boston softly huffs next to Shepard upon finally noticing their unexpected visitor, and promptly lies back down in his nest of blankets. Shepard scratches his ear affectionately. At least one of them was interested in getting enough sleep tonight. The pickup truck wobbles as Sara unceremoniously lifts herself over the tail gate and into the pile of blankets.

“Can’t really blame you for camping out up here,” the brunette says as she settles in beside them. “This is one hell of a view.”

“The stars or the spaceship?”

“Ah, I think that one comes in a package,” Sara tells her airily. “What do you think is going on up there?”

Shepard takes a deep breath. “They’re probably asking the same questions as we are.”

“Or cooking up ways on how to harvest our brains?”

“Not really the kind of thing you should say to the person whose job is to find out.”

“Not if we harvest their brains first.”

Shepard laughs. “Is that what you came here to do? Give me awful suggestions?”

“I couldn’t let you have this view all for yourself,” Sara teases.

Shepard offers her a noncommittal hum, eyes still planted on the alien vessel that could easily take off or disappear at any given moment. A small part of her wants to savor every moment, even the mundane, even the quietest, because history in the making has the unfortunate habit of being so unpredictable.

“Is this what you expected before you enlisted? Before you became a Spectre?”

Shepard pauses, the question catching her off guard. She looks at Sara then, trying to read the younger woman’s expression. “What do you mean, kid?”

“Is this what being a Spectre is all about?”

"No, no," Shepard chuckles, amused. "What brought this on?”

Sara looks down, and it leaves something deeply unsettling in Shepard’s chest. “I spoke with Doctor Chakwas today.”

“What about?”

“Well, I asked her about the long-term effects with prolonged exposure,” she pauses before continuing, “from the vessel.”

Shepard merely hums again in response. She has a feeling she already knows where this was going. 

“She told me that while the ship doesn’t release any harmful pollutants or radiation, the chances of cellular mutation cannot be ruled out,” she continues softly. “We aren’t getting anything from our scans, sure, but what if the reason why is because we don’t know what to look for?”

“You’re worried about me and your old man,” she says fondly.

“Of course I am,” Sara is quick to admit. “Long term exposure will lead to complications in the future. And I don’t see anyone else volunteering to take yours and dad’s place anytime soon.”

“Those hazmat suits should hold,” Shepard tells her. “Even though I hate wearing the damn things,” she grumbles. “It’s all we’ve got for now. Besides, I doubt… I doubt she’d be willing to leave her ship.”

“She?”

“The… ah, visitor behind the glass.”

Sara is quiet for a moment. It makes Shepard crane her neck towards the younger woman’s direction to check whether or not her companion has fallen asleep.

“How do you know it’s a she?” Sara says after a while.

“Well, I… I don’t really think about it. You’ve seen the images yourself, right? You know,” Shepard refrains herself from using the word ‘she’ again, “what the alien looks like?”

“Humanoid, four limbs, blue-skinned, cuspidate appendages on its head, distinct feminine biology,” Sara trails off. “It’s all in the reports.”

“Guess that answers your question, then.” 

Sara nods, and it leaves Shepard feeling unsure about herself for some reason. “We should probably give it—ah, _her_ —a nickname, huh?”

Shepard blinks. “A what?”

“A nickname!” Sara exclaims. “Nothing official or anything. Just a name to put on a face,” she ponders.

Shepard chuckles. “Pretty sure there are at least three or four pages saying that’s against regs.”

“Oh yeah? I thought Spectres were supposed to be above the law.”

“No, it’s just the humanity talking I suppose.”

Sara raises an eyebrow.

“What about Blue?” Shepard says after a while. “What do you think?”

“Blue?” Sara scrunches her nose.

“Yeah, because—”

“She’s blue?”

“Yeah,” Shepard mutters dumbly.

Sara howls with laughter, a series of breathless giggles wracking her shoulders. “You’re good at many things, Shepard,” she says after another batch of laughter, wiping nonexistent tears in her eyes. “But making up nicknames just isn’t one of them.”

“Blue isn’t so bad,” Shepard replies, tone serious.

“Oh, Thank god it’s not a part of your job description.”

“You’re the worse, kid.”

“Report back to me when you’ve thought of a better nickname, Commander.”

“You’re lucky as hell you never got to serve under my command, Lieutenant.”

The rest of the night is spent with idle chatter instead, about expectations and badly written sci-fi films that makes Shepard think of better, simpler times.

* * *

Shepard sits on one of the benches of the sanitation bay, elbows planted on her knees. She stares at her own trembling fingers and wills them to stop. 

“Be ready to move in five, Shepard,” Alec’s muffled voice tells her.

They were planning on finally speaking to the alien today, but something else in the tent catches Shepard’s eyes: a small whiteboard hanging on one of the shelves.

Shepard grabs it before continuing the laborious process of putting on her hazmat suit.

* * *

“What is that?” Alec immediately points out the whiteboard the minute Shepard steps out of the tent. Men and women behind him are loading the rest of their heavy equipment on to the pick-up trucks; most of those, Shepard knows, would be ineffective against their primary objective.

“A visual aid,” she answers, tucking the object in question between her arm.

“A visual aid?”

“It’s a little embarrassing compared to what they have, I know,” Shepard replies, walking ahead of him to take her usual spot at the back of the truck. “They have holograms, untraceable ships, tortuously intricate symbols, and we have—”

“A whiteboard.”

“A whiteboard,” Shepard repeats, as she deftly boards the vehicle despite the added weight of the hazmat.

Alec follows, less agile. He’s already out of breath; the hazmat suit only amplifying the sounds of his heavy, labored breathing. “We make do with what we have then,” he heaves.

“I know,” Shepard looks at the man, reminded of his old age and of her and Sara’s conversation the night before.

“Alright,” Alec pats the side of the pick-up truck. “Are we ready?”

“Ready.”

* * *

When they enter the vessel, the alien is already waiting for them behind the glass. She’s wearing the same piece of garment she wore the day Shepard first saw her, a green and white colored bodysuit—snug in the right places, but boldly impractical. There’s an unreadable expression on the alien’s human-like face, features that are perfectly symmetrical even by human standards; the way it’s built in near flawless execution, a tall pointed nose, two sets of clear blue eyes, plump lips a shade darker than her skin pigmentation, and even two dark marks on her head undeniably resembling a human’s eyebrows.

She’s alien, and yet everything about her screams familiarity. She’s alien and yet, alone, she does not falter in foreign soil. There _must_ be more of her in this vessel, terrifying as it sounds. Otherwise, what a brave explorer she must truly be. The Spectre doesn’t know which is more intimidating.

Shepard thinks her team must look like inflated balloons compared to the calm specimen in front of her. For some inane reason, it’s bothering her more than it should. Is this really how they should be making first impressions? They must seem utterly incompetent compared to their unexpected visitors, something that was quite frankly not far from the truth. Shepard clutches the whiteboard tighter, mind scrambling for a word, anything at all, to show the alien otherwise. Her team begins to go about their business behind her, as quick and efficient as humanly possible.

And that’s when the stray thought finds her, pushing her into action, hands now shakily scribbling the word on the smooth surface of the whiteboard.

 _Human_ , Shepard wrote in scraggly penmanship.

The response is almost immediate, clear blue eyes snapping up to the whiteboard that Shepard holds steady in front of her. Shepard looks around the room to search for approval among her teammates but is instead met with deathly silence, everyone equally as overwhelmed. Even Alec Ryder, rarely fazed by any development, stood still with his eyes planted on the alien.

“Human,” Shepard’s breathless voice echoes inside her own helmet, and it makes her feel as though she's the only one who can hear herself speak. She takes a step closer towards the glass barrier. Two steps. Three. Four. Alec tries to stop her, but it leaves the commander undettered. Five steps closer. Six.

The alien mirrors Shepard.

“Human,” Shepard repeats, louder, firmer. The alien doesn’t respond, not even one acknowledging blink, or a slight tilt of her head—a quiet gesture that Shepard has seen a few times before, one that the commander believes is a sign of curiosity from the alien.

 _She can’t understand_ , Shepard thinks to herself. _It isn’t working. She can’t see me._ Shepard briefly glances at the red sparrow in the corner, noticing how serene it looks on its small perch.

And it happens before Shepard can even stop herself. The screeching sound of Velcro pulling apart echoes in the deathly silent room, hooks and fasteners unlocking itself as the soldier peels herself out of the only armor probably keeping her alive.

“Commander Shepard!” One of the officers exclaim as soon as the damning realization settles, but it comes a second too late.

Shepard is already standing near the barrier, now a hazmat suit lighter.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” Alec barks, sprinting next to Shepard’s side.

“It’s okay,” she puts a hand up to stop him. “She needs to see me,” she says, voice sounding a little too desperate than intended.

Alec stares at her for a moment before offering a reluctant nod. ‘I trust you,’ his eyes tell her, and Shepard continues.

She takes a deep breath of the air. Nothing happens. Nothing smells particularly different from the outside world. Nothing has changed, except for the added feeling of freedom. Shepard holds the whiteboard higher in front of her, a finger tapping over the inked words.

“Human,” Shepard says in a clear voice now unfiltered by the gaudy helmet. “I am human. We are human,” she speaks louder, surer of herself now in the open air.

The human doesn’t notice it at first, subtle as it is.

But blue eyes are roaming Shepard’s body in a slow, tantalizing pace, taking in every foreign detail with silent intensity. The realization settles in Shepard’s stomach before she can even continue to speak again.

The alien is seeing her for the first time.

* * *

“Shepard,” her name is spat out in repressed anger. It was from Addison. She was already waiting for them in the sanitation bay.

Shepard’s eyes unconsciously search for Alec’s in the cramped room, but is only met with a look similar to the one painted across Addison’s face. She shakes her head guiltily.

“In case I haven’t made myself clear enough, time is of the essence here,” the agent continues, eyes narrowed dangerously at the Spectre. “And what it seems like you’re trying to do is in direct opposition of the exact purpose of this operation. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but are you trying to teach an honest to God alien race English?”

“It’s faster this way.”

“Shepard,” she enunciates, and Shepard is quick to realize just how much she's beginning to hate how the other woman says her name. “We need to find a way to understand them—what _they_ need. Not the other way around.” Addison looks at Alec pointedly, but the man merely purses his lips. “You must understand that everything you do in that ship, I have to explain to a boardroom full of men who asks me the same damn thing every time: How can this be used against us?”

“Kangaroo,” Shepard cuts the other woman off.

“What?”

“Kangaroo,” Shepard repeats, effectively silencing the other woman. “In 1770, Captain James Cook led a small party, ground side on the coast of Australia where they met the aboriginal people.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“One of the sailors pointed at the animal that hopped around with a pouch on its belly and asked what it was called,” Shepard continued, unfazed by the other woman’s growing irritation. “Kangaroo, one of the locals replied.”

Addison crosses her arms over her chest. "And?"

“It wasn’t until later that they found out the word ‘kangaroo’ means I don’t know,” she finishes. Silence follows. “So I need to do this to avoid misinterpretation, otherwise this is going to take twice as long.”

Addison pinches the bridge of her nose. “Fine, I see your point,” she mutters under her breath. “ _Fine_. I can use that. For now,” she sighs. “But I need you to submit a list of vocabulary words before the next session. Less is more.”

“I can do that,” Shepard nods.

Alec silently watches the exchange, but Shepard can tell, with the slight quirk of his lip, that he found the situation mildly amusing.

Before Addison turns to exit the small room, she speaks in a clear, loud voice, “And don’t forget what happened to the aboriginals, Commander. The British Navy, the more advanced among the two, nearly wiped them out.”

Shepard is left to stare at the agent’s retreating back, the gravity of the words a heavy weight on her shoulders.

“That was a nice story,” Alec breaks the silence. “Might have missed it in history class though.”

“That’s because I made it up,” before Alec can open his mouth to speak, Shepard continues, “but it proves my point.”

Alec raises both hands in a clear sign of surrender. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, kid. But before anything else, why don’t you go see Doctor Chakwas first, huh? Better safe than sorry out here, Shepard.”

“Copy that, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be updating this fic and my other Mass Effect fics more frequently at this point, and eventually we’ll get to the good stuff. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please stay safe out there everyone!


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